


Do You Trust Me?

by skittle479



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9182920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittle479/pseuds/skittle479
Summary: Barba's communication issues result in problems in your relationship.





	

Rafael closed the door to his apartment. As he turned to place his keys on the hook, he skidded slightly. He noticed a piece of paper on the floor and bent down to pick it up, uttering profanities as he straightened himself slowly. He rubbed his back with one had while unfolding the paper with the other.

_**Gracias por tu dirección, abogado.** _

“Thank you for your address,” Rafael swallowed, as he read and reread the note. He still had no idea who was responsible for the threats.

Rafael practically jumped out of his skin as the front door opened.

“Raf! You’re home! Did you just get in? I didn’t see you. Why are you just standing by the front door?” you asked, baffled by the shifty manner in which Rafael was behaving.

Rafael barely had time to stuff the threatening note into his back pocket before you came through the door. He rubbed his hands nervously on his pants, trying think of something to say. His mind was reeling, palms felt clammy, and he was suddenly a little nauseous.

_What do I do now? I can’t tell her, how do I tell her what I did?_

“Raf… is everything alright?” you asked uncertainly. He was barely listening. Lost in his own thoughts, he wandered off towards the kitchen, ignoring your question.

You huffed angrily. _Why was he behaving this way?_ Rafael had been acting strange and distant for a short time now. You knew that the death of Mike Dodds had had an impact on the team, but you didn’t think that Rafael and Dodds had been at all close. So why the distance and distraction?

You followed Rafael into the kitchen and watched him float aimlessly from the fridge to the coffee maker, then over to the dishwasher. You knew there was something on his mind when he started unloading it.

Rafael pulled out one plate at a time, they clanked together noisily but he didn’t care. His mind was racing. _Is she in danger? Do we need a protective detail? What have I done? What do I do?_

He didn’t notice that you were watching him intently and definitely didn’t sense your building agitation. You could not figure out his preoccupation; even when his body was home, his mind wasn’t. You had only moved in relatively recently, was this his way of saying things weren’t to his taste? _Does he even want me here?_

“Rafael, why don’t we go out for dinner?” you suggested, thinking a change of scenery would help you to get to the bottom of his aloofness.

Rafael looked at you suddenly, as if seeing you for the first time. He knew what he had to do and it was going to break his heart … and yours.

“Dios perdoname,” he muttered under his breath.

“I don’t really feel like going out,” he snapped.

You recoiled slightly. Dammit, that sounded much more abrupt than he’d meant.

“Fine, what do you want to do for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Rafael lost his courage, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t break up with you. He turned and walked away.

You followed, you’d reached your tipping point, the anger you’d been feeling started to bubble and boil over. _What does he want? Why can’t he be straight with me?_

“Raf,” you entered your bedroom, where he was undressing slowly.

“Rafi,” you used his pet name, hoping to illicit an emotional response from him. “Is something going on? You’ve been so … distant recently.”

He said nothing.

“What is your problem?” you asked angrily.

Now you definitely got a response, just not the one you had expected.

“ _You_ are!” Rafael’s sudden outburst stunned you into silence.

Stunned and confused at the eruption, you didn’t notice the grimace of pain that flashed across his face.

“I … I don’t understand, Rafi. Did I do something wrong?”

He hated hearing the pain in your voice.  He turned away, knowing that he would never be able to go through with this if he continued to look at your face.

“I don’t think … that this is really working out,” he said quietly, unable to give you a real answer.

“Rafi, please, I don’t … when did … why?” you struggled to form a coherent sentence.

Rafael didn’t help you out, he just stood facing away from you, in stony silence. You couldn’t see the agony on his face, he kept it well hidden in shadow, having learnt from childhood how to keep his emotions locked away from prying eyes.

You took a moment to compose yourself, the shock wearing off and anger returning.

“Rafael Barba, I need you to give me a valid reason for why you are behaving like a dick!”

“Because … I don’t love you,” Rafael said in a low voice.

* * *

 

Rafael walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He stood facing the mirror, staring at his face. He was trembling. Rafael gripped the edges of the sink. For a moment, he thought he was going to throw up, but instead his hands curled into fists. _What have I done?_ He stared at his reflection, full of self loathing and disgust.

Suddenly, he couldn’t bare to look anymore and before he knew what was happening, his fist had slammed into the glass pane, sending shards scattering over the sink and searing pain through his knuckles. Rafael sank down onto the floor, the ache in his hand and the pain in his heart rivaling for his attention.

He watched as blood oozed out around the small pieces of glass jutting out of his skin.

 _I should probably do something about this_ , he thought, as he continued to sit on the bathroom floor.

Rafael wasn’t sure how long he sat there, thinking about how his cowardice had caused him to lose all the people he cared about. First his grandmother, then his best friend, Alex, and now you. Rafael wasn’t even sure why he hadn’t just admitted to having received death threats. Why had it been easier for him to let you go, albeit for your protection, than telling you the truth? What was he so afraid of?

* * *

 

You stood outside the door of your apartment building … correction, Rafael’s apartment building. You no longer lived there, that was abundantly clear. You were essentially homeless.

You bit down on your lip, if you didn’t stop it quivering, you would definitely start crying and it definitely wouldn’t do to cry in the middle of the street.

_Well I can’t just stand here!_

Your feet were just not willing to co-operate.

_Pick a direction and MOVE!_

That did the trick! You started walking aimlessly. You had only given up your apartment a mere week before, you had nowhere to go. You laughed bitterly.

_One week, that’s how long it had taken for me to have gone from having everything to nothing._

_Things couldn’t really get any worse._

The thought had barely formed in your mind, when a loud rumble erupted from the sky.

_That couldn’t be…_

You looked up and a raindrop landed directly on your nose. You sighed and started walking again. It had been a humid summer, the heat was almost suffocating, and at any other time you would have been grateful for a downpour to ease the atmosphere. But here you were, suddenly single, with no fixed abode and drenched to the bone.

You succumbed to the tears that you’d been holding back. It was so wet that it was impossible to tell which drops were rain and which were tears. You kept walking. The sun was setting and you knew you needed somewhere to go, but the thought of asking any of your friends for shelter was unbearable.

As darkness enveloped you, you noticed a welcome light come on in front of you. The sign read _Flannery’s Bar_. It looked as dry and inviting a place as ever, so in you went.

* * *

 

Rafael looked down at his hand as he sat in the ER waiting room; it was wrapped in a blood-stained dish towel. He hadn’t attempted remove all the shards of glass.

“Mr. Rafael Barba?” the ER nurse called out his name.

He got up and followed the nurse into a cubicle, where he proceeded to clean the open gash and remove the small mirror pieces, followed by a quick x-ray to ensure all the shards were out.

“I need to stitch up this cut, Mr. Barba. I’m going to inject some anesthetic now.”

“No thanks,” Rafael muttered, miserably.

“That wasn’t an offer, Mr. Barba.”

“Don’t you need my consent?” Rafael countered testily. “I’m refusing to give you my consent.”

“In that case, Mr. Barba, I’m refusing to stitch up your injury.”

Rafael looked at the nurse mutinously before conceding defeat. “Fine,” he mumbled. The nurse proceeded to deftly throw stitches across the open gashes on Rafael’s fist.

“So, Mr. Barba, would you like to talk about how you sustained this injury?” the nurse asked lightly as he neared the end of his task.

“Not particularly,” Rafael answered sullenly.

“It seems to me that you did something you regret,” the nurse said, with surprising insight.

“That’s none of your business!”

“It is when you’re in my ER and I’m stitching up your hand.” He put down his forceps and needle holder and inspected his handiwork, then picked up a bandage and started wrapping.

“I broke up with my girlfriend for a stupid reason.”

“Would that be the girl who is ringing you at the moment?“

Rafael looked down at his phone to see your face gracing his screen. He grappled with his phone with his free hand, finally hitting the answer button before shoving it against his ear.

“Cariño?”

“Errrrrr, no mate.” A strange voice answered.

“Who is this?”

“Name’s Braden. You Rafael?”

“Yes, and you have my girlfriend’s phone. If you don’t tell me why immediately, I will have you arrested.”

“Chill out, mate. I’m calling you about your gal mate, she’s plastered.”

“I’m sorry, are you speaking English?”

“Bloody Americans,” the man muttered before slowly and patronizingly saying, “come and get your girlfriend, she is hammered.”

* * *

 

Rafael burst through the doors of _Flannery’s Bar_  looking around frantically for you. He rushed to the bar and slammed his hands on the counter, wincing as his injured hand protested by sending pulses of pain up his arm.

“I’m looking for Braden,” he demanded.

“Yeah mate,” Braden looked Rafael up and down before nodding his head in your direction. “She’s over there. I cut her off.”

Rafael looked around to see you huddled in a booth, nursing a glass of water. You had a blanket draped over your shoulders and your hair had dried in every direction possible. You looked a mess, not that you had any notion of it in that moment in time.

He slid onto the couch opposite you.

“Hey,” Rafael said gently.

You look up at him, vision swimming slightly. You definitely needed to say away from the tequila from now on.

Why was he even there? Was he actually there, or a just an alcohol induced vision of your subconscious desire?

“What do _you_  want?” you asked sullenly.

“To talk.”

“ _I_ think you’ve said everything you needed to say,” you slurred.

“Cariño…” Rafael started, but you weren’t having any of it.

You swung your legs out of the booth and stood up quickly, a decision you immediately regretted. The room spun dangerously and the blanket that was draped around you fell off your shoulders, sending a cold chill through your spine.

Rafael was up and by your side in a flash, as you teetered between an upright position and falling flat on your face. He grabbed you around the waist to stop you falling. He only wanted to help you, but right now you didn’t see it they way. In your eyes, he had done enough, and if he didn’t love you, you didn’t want or need his help.

“Get off me,” you pushed him away.

Rafael backed off slightly, but stayed within arms reach, or as he thought of it, _catching distance_.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere that’s away from _you_!”

“Cariño, please,” Rafael pleaded. “Come home.”

“Thanks to you, _Rafael_ ,” you prodded him hard in the chest, “I don’t have a home.”

“I’m sorry for the things I said. Please, come home with me.”

“You’re sorry? You’re _sorry_?” you yell hysterically. You had the attention of most of the occupants of the bar at this point.

“Can we discuss this at home please?” Rafael said in a low voice.

“Are you worried about what other people think, Rafael Barba? If you think I’m going _anywhere_ with you, you’re deranged.”

You sat back down, fighting back the waves of nausea that had started to roll through you. Your eyelids drooped and you wished you could just close your eyes and rest for a few minutes. Talking to Rafael was just too exhausting at that moment. _Just a few more minutes_. Your eyes fluttered, as you struggled between the land of debauchery and blissful oblivion.

* * *

 

_Could someone stop that infernal racket?_

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t said the words out loud. You groaned and tried to bury your face deeper into the pillow as the noise continued.

_Was Manhattan traffic always this bad?_

It took you a little while to regain your sense of your place in the space-time continuum. The events of the previous day came flooding into your barely conscious mind. You opened your eyes, immediately recognizing your … Rafael’s apartment.

 _Rafael_ , the mere thought of him brought his voice to your ears.

You sat up slowly, trying to ignore the drums pounding in your heard in favor of listening to his hushed telephone conversation.

“Liv, I said it’s fine. I’ll take the security detail, on one condition…” he paused, waiting for Olivia’s response.

“The security detail needs to be for both of us.”

Another pause before, “fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rafael pushed the door open to find you sitting up staring at him. You pulled the covers closer to you, almost like creating a barrier between the two of you. It was then you realized that you weren’t actually wearing any clothes.

“Why am I undressed?” you demanded. “What gives you the right to take off my clothes without my consent?”

“They were all wet, cariño. I didn’t want you to fall ill.”

_Oh, a valid reason._

“Well, then, could you please hand me my clothes and I will get out of your hair,” you said haughtily.

Rafael sadly picked up the nearest sweatshirt and handed it to you. As he held out his hand, you saw the bandage wrapped around it. Your eyes lingered on it before you took the sweatshirt.

_Don’t ask, it’s not your problem anymore._

But you couldn’t shake the question from your mind as you pull the sweatshirt over your head. It was much too large for you. Of course, it was because it didn’t belong to you. Before you knew it, Rafael’s scent was permeating your nostrils, bringing with it the memories you had shared with him.

Rafael watched you as you closed your eyes, trying to fight off the tears.

“Cariño,” he whispered gently, as he edged around the bed to be closer to you.

He hated seeing you cry. He sat down at your side, without touching you, waiting for your permission.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

You drew a deep, shuddering breath, as tears slipped down your face. Rafael leaned closer. You heard the air whistling through his nostrils, felt the warmth of his breath. It was too much to bear, and you did what you’d promised yourself you’d never do. Falling into Rafael’s embrace made you feel like you were home, which made you sob harder because it was all a lie.

Rafael held on tighter the harder you cried. His heart filled with a whirlpool of emotions: disgust at himself for having hurt you, shame at his cowardice, but mostly the love he felt for you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over, until you calmed down.

Finally you sat up, ready to hear his explanation. You looked at him expectantly.

_Let’s hear it._

Rafael was suddenly nervous again, his confidence deflating like a popped balloon. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for your response.

“Cariño, I … I’m not sure where to start, how to explain my heinous behavior. So please bear with me?”

You nodded.

“You remember the Terence Reynolds trial?”

You nodded again.

“Ever since I indicted those cops, I’ve been receiving threats … death threats.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “ _What?_ ”

“They’ve just been getting worse and worse throughout the year.”

Questions screamed through your mind. _Why didn’t he tell me? Why was this happening? Was it safe? Did someone try to hurt him? Was that why he had a bandaged hand?_

You could see Rafael’s struggle to find words, so you kept silent and let him continue.

“When we arrested Munson, things started to get worse. There was a man, he started making threats in person. It was all verbal, he never touched me, but …” he stopped, remembering the fear that he had felt.

Without thinking, you laid a comforting hand on his arm.

“The squad arrested him and I thought it was all over. After Dodds, I didn’t want to waste time with our lives, so I asked you to move in here. But yesterday … when I came home, I found this,” Rafael pulled out the note that had been pushed through the door.

You took it from him and read it silently.

“I did something foolish. You have to understand, where I grew up … I didn’t have any great physical advantages, I used my mouth to get out of trouble. I learnt to talk my way out of my problems, but I also learnt to talk my way into them,” Rafael looked down at his hands, embarrassed to meet your gaze.

“You gave them your address,” you whispered, understanding what had happened.

“I gave them _our_ address.”

You sat in silence for a while, processing the information he has just delivered. You had two important questions in your mind, but which to address first?

“Why didn’t you tell me all this, Rafael?” you asked, because you suspected that the answer to this would lead to an answer to your next question.

“At first, I thought it was just a petty way to undermine me, psych me out. As things went on, I … it started out as … I didn’t want you to be worried, or be afraid when you went out. But then it got to the point where it had gone on so long, I was ashamed to admit it to you _how_ long it had been.

“I thought it was over when they arrested Heredio. But then there was this note, and I was afraid … that if they knew how much I loved you, they would come after you instead.”

“So you thought that breaking up with me was the best solution?” you asked dryly.

Rafael hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“You know that the simple solution would have been to tell me the truth. You say you care about me, that you love me, but you clearly don’t _trust_ me …”

Rafael opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off.

“No, Rafi, it’s my turn to talk. You say you’re sorry and I believe you, you say you love me and I believe you…”

A small smile crept onto Rafael’s face and you hated that it was about to disappear because of what you were going to say next.

“…but I’m not sure that you trust me.”

You were right, his face fell as abruptly as a ton of bricks.

“I do, cariño, I … I do trust you … I …”

It was almost fascinating to watch him struggle with his words.

“You’re the _one_ person I have complete faith in. You’re right, though, I don’t trust people easily, and it’s something I’ve struggled with for a long time. I have a _lifetime_ of practice at keeping things to myself. Open communication, you’ll be surprised to hear, isn’t one of greatest skills.

“I haven’t handled things very well, in fact, I’ve handled this abysmally. I … I thought I was keeping you safe. I thought I was trying protect you. I … think at the start I was afraid … afraid that you would leave.”

You scoffed at that.

“I know, stupid. Because in the end I’m the one that drove you to what I was most afraid of.”

“Rafael,” you laid your hand on his and squeezed it.

Rafael winced and you gasped, realizing that it’s his injured hand.

“Rafi, what happened?” you asked, gesturing at his hand.

“I may have taken some of my feeling out on the bathroom mirror,” he muttered.

You pulled his hand into your lap and cradled it.

“I asked Liv to organize a security detail for us.”

“I heard.”

“They are trying to figure out who is behind this.”

“Good.”

“Cariño?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay?”

“Only if you promise not to smash any more mirrors. We don’t need any more bad luck.”

Rafael smiled and climbed into bed with you. He promised himself that he would never let you go again.


End file.
